


Captive

by vacci_piano



Series: Omega Assassins [9]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Abortion, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Omega Clay Kaczmarek, Omega Desmond Miles, Omega Verse, Other, Suicide, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacci_piano/pseuds/vacci_piano
Summary: His DNA makes him special. So special in fact, he's not entitled to make his own choices.
Relationships: Clay Kaczmarek | Subject 16/Desmond Miles, Clay Kaczmarek | Subject 16/Other(s), Desmond Miles/Other(s), Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Sofia Sartor (implied), Lucy Stillman & Clay Kaczmarek | Subject 16, Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Series: Omega Assassins [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704466
Kudos: 37





	Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for: rape, torture, forced pregnancy and suicide

“His name was Clay.”

_Aww. You really do care_.

Yeah. I do.

_…Thanks._

*

He hadn’t really meant to say yes, when Clay asked if he could come with.

So why did he?

Clay runs into him, their skins merging into one being.

Before he knows it, the Animus Island is gone. He’s lost his eyesight and all hearing.

“Clay… What’s happening?” But there’s no answer. Nothing is moving around him, no gust of wind, no changes in gravity, but somehow, he feels the blackness around him moving; feels himself fall deeper. His stomach flips and drops, as if he’s taking a Leap of Faith, but there’s no haystack, and the feeling continues, until he can’t think.

He thinks he might be blacking out.

*

Sleep. Animus. Sleep. _Animus_.

His small flat with broken furniture and bar-tending gigs might've been bullshit, but they had been _his_ choice, his bullshit.

It’s Vidic who wakes him up again. Lucy’s busy tinkering with the machine – there’s been a malfunction, _again_. He doesn’t even want to think about what’ll happen if it malfunctions while he’s inside.

Desmond wonders what’s her secret to keeping sane; Lucy told him she was a captive like him. She’s been here forever, he’s been here for a few days.

*

He never agreed to this. His dad – no, not his dad – _William_ never warned him. And Lucy… He doesn’t know what to think of her.

Sometimes Malik lets himself be held, sometimes he sinks into the soft mounds of Sofia's flesh.

And it's.

It's the best he's ever had.

(But… How? Why is he thinking about Sofia? His memories of Ezio were still buried when the Abstergo… When…)

He's not even sure if someone is touching him outside the Animus. All he knows is the bond between him and Malik, him and Sofia, and _he feels loved_ , his bond is _everything_.

Then he's brought out of the Animus and the world's full of shades of grey and nothing else, and his heart shatters every time. All the love and euphoria are just... gone.

Another omega is done riding him - he lets the omega cradle his face and wipe away his tears with her thumbs as she calls him by another's name, and he wants to spit in her face but he can't because her gaze is unseeing. How long have they brainwashed her? Will that be him in a few months? Shit, maybe it only takes a few _weeks_.

His episodes outside the Animus last longer now - they call it the Bleeding Effect. He hates it because the episodes never last, never let him fall into full oblivion. One moment he's fighting and snarling against some burly alpha, next he's coming untouched on the alpha's knot and he has no idea what went on in-between his lucid moments, only that the alpha is claiming C…C… Desmond is _his_ but there's no bite mark on his mating gland because they've pulled out the alpha's teeth.

Every time he goes into the Animus, it takes longer to wake up. He gets so _tired_ and he doesn't know if it's worth remembering who Desmond is.

(He used to be Desmond.)

Negative.

He's an empty vessel without an identity, without bonds, and they keep saying he needs to breed and be bred. Then he remembers and gets angry, and on and on the cycle goes.

In his worst moments, he begins to think whether it would’ve been kinder to allow them to put him into a coma, when Vidic first asked if he wanted to live.

(But Vidic never asked him?)

*

Malik is lost in thought, his hand rests against the omega’s belly. Altaïr does not understand such sentimentality when the child is still inside, but he supposes he might as well allow this.

Malik will not demand or ask for children, but Altaïr had taken one look at Malik when his condition was revealed to the alpha, to decide there would be more to follow, after this one is born. The bond is not enough for the omega; Altaïr means to possess the alpha in every way he can.

The image of Malik disappears. Altaïr follows a moment later, leaving Desmond in his place. But Desmond’s not alone.

With striking clarity, Desmond knows he’s pregnant.

He takes a moment to process; thinks he might try slipping in the shower, take care of his problem before his secret is discovered. Make it look like an accident so he doesn’t end up in a padded room. A blood test will betray his status, but it’ll be too late by then.

If he loses the fetus, they will increase their efforts to impregnate him again, won’t they? Knowing that there’s a chance for success.

Desmond can’t take more of this, more trips to the Animus, more induced Bleeding, more touches from his many not-bonded. He doesn’t want to give birth, keep it, let it get taken or _give it away_ , knowing there’s a piece missing, feeling responsible for something he had no choice in, something he can’t love.

He’d cry if he wasn’t so utterly exhausted. He can’t manage a single tear, so he walks into the shower with his clothes on and pretends the water dripping down his numb face isn’t water at all, but actual tears from a human being.

The camera catches everything - his non-reaction to soaked clothes - and he’s escorted out of the shower almost immediately.

He’s wearing dry, warm clothes now; he didn’t freak out but they sedated him anyway, just in case. Lucy swipes a finger across the touch screen on the tablet in her hands and begins reading through the charts she finds there.

“Were you aware you were still wearing clothes?”

They think he’s finally cracked, lost his grip on reality. He probably is, but not like they think he is. Or maybe they’re right and he’s delusional. Desmond keeps quiet.

Lucy makes a few more swipes and freezes, knuckles white. “You’re pregnant.”

She puts the tablet away and looks to Desmond for answers. “Did you know?” Her eyes travel to one of the cameras in the corner, doesn’t ask questions from then on. She makes meaningless chatter instead, as if to keep Desmond from trying to initiate other types of conversation. She needn’t have bothered. Desmond has nothing to say.

He should’ve slipped in the shower. The security will be tighter from this point on; he’s lucky if he gets to flush the toilet by himself. They probably want to check he's getting enough fiber.

*

This time it’s not Vidic who wakes him up by creepily standing next to his bed. It’s Lucy. She walks over to the nightstand and places a small paper cup with two pills inside and a glass of water on it.

“I’ve disabled the cameras for 10 minutes. Your choice. Make sure you flush them down the toilet if you’re not gonna use them.” Desmond doesn’t wait. In a flash, he’s already sitting up on the bed and swallowing the pills. He washes them down with the water, to make sure nothing gets stuck in his throat. Lucy stares at him, and he stares at her, until they both give each other a small smile, sad, but just a little more perfect than that.

“So what happens now?”

Her smile grows warmer. “We come up with a plan. I’ll get you some medicine for the pain.”

*

She was supposed to protect him. She _promised_ to protect him.

“I’m keeping my promise.”

That’s even worse.

…He’s never gonna get out, is he?

Clay splits himself into thirty pieces of data.

*

Desmond startles awake. Clay stands to the side, has separated himself from Desmond.

“What the fuck was that, Clay?!”

“I... wanted to remember. What was done to me. Those were some of my last memories I saved. Something like hidden data in the pieces I made, running in the background, not meant to be activated until the right command prompt. I think my memories got translated into something you’d understand so they wouldn’t overwhelm you, due to their… _sensitive_ nature.”

“Fuck,” Desmond groans and rubs his temples. “ _Jesus_ , Clay. A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry.” Clay looks genuinely sorry, before something startles him. He looks behind Desmond, then around them both, not paying Desmond much attention anymore. “We need to get out of here _now_.”

The image of the Animus Island is fast disintegrating. Desmond had felt its safety, but he should’ve known its ending was a trap. Without Clay, it would’ve been. No safe ground here; nothing lasts forever. Not even information like this.

The combination of data is dismantling around them and they hurry their steps into the white, bright void, greedily sucking them in.

Desmond wakes up, and he didn’t come back alone.

*

He doesn’t tell the others. Clay seems uncomfortable around his dad, Shaun would ask too many questions, uncaring for the distress he’d be causing. Rebecca would care.

Desmond hops down from the Animus and stretches his legs. These sessions with Connor have been… Intense.

His neck grows hot when he thinks about what he shouldn’t have seen. Would it have been like that for him, if he’d ever gotten bonded? He had dated a lot, back in his old life. Either they didn’t last and the one that stuck around, eventually left, without her ever telling him why. Maybe she felt like he was hiding – and he was – but he’d liked his hiding place.

_Lie_.

Desmond sighs. Rebecca is closest, and anyway, right now he doesn’t feel like talking to his dad or the resident asshole; he needs to talk to someone humane before he goes crazy.

“What happened with Lucy?”

Rebecca’s question throws him off, and he tries to find a way to bring up the fact that she –

Doesn’t matter. Juno got what she wanted.

*

There’s something that’s been bothering me.

_What?_

What _really_ happened with Lucy – and Juno. Why didn’t Juno simply warn me? Why was Juno so threatened by her? Lucy might’ve been working for Abstergo, but she wouldn’t have tried to kill me to get the Apple, even when confronted. I don’t think she was that kinda person.

… Clay?

Are you there?

*

All Connor had to do, was ask. The key is buried now. Lee is still alive, by his father’s request, and he allows it. There will be other opportunities, when Haytham lets down his guard.

He stares at the other Connor’s grave and wonders about Achilles’ ailing health.

“Oh, I think we will have to endure his company for many years to come. If nothing else, he will live to be a hundred out of sheer spite.”

“Possibly. You might want to keep your visit short, or sleep at the inn tonight; I saw Achilles going through his gelding tools. We have not had use for those in years.”

Haytham scoffs, but as he takes in Connor’s serious-looking face and recognizes it for the truth, he feels himself slip into a grimace.

*

So, the First Civ pulled a _So Long and Thanks for All the Fish_ , Minerva would rather see humanity face extinction, and _apparently_ Juno wants to be let free. She says it won’t hurt. One, he doesn’t like, the other, he doesn’t trust.

Does it hurt?

_Dunno. But I bet it’ll be a hell of a lot faster than my method._

Hey Clay.

_Yeah?_

Stay with me? 

_Always. Do you even need to ask?_

His dad looks sad and frail. This might be the first time they really see each other, truly, when before they were hidden behind auras born from years of malcontent and frustration. This William isn’t at all like the leader of the Assassins who drove his son away, or the man that punched him. This William loves Desmond. It’s… nice. Guess he’ll do something nice in return.

“Fuck you, Minerva. And fuck you too, Juno.”

His hand quivers when it touches the sphere and it’s –

Agony.

Of course she lied.

*

It wasn’t that Desmond did something, aside from saving the world, or dooming it. But he remembers, when the pain really pierced, dissected him, that that’s when Clay took over and _did_ something.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Clay, but I think I kinda love you.”

Desmond isn’t dead. _Desmond isn’t dead and Clay is here with him_. Clay smiles and they hug each other; it’s goddamn cheesy, but Desmond makes a few spins anyway with Clay in his arms, _because he can_. After a few squeezes and pats, he starts to pull back, but then his eyes lock on to something that doesn’t really make sense.

“Clay…?” That can’t be right. If it’s a joke, it’s not a funny one. “Why am I looking at my dead body?”

Clay grabs him before Desmond has time to keel over, and they sag to the ground, together.

If he’s dead, why does he feel so… real? They both watch together in silence, fascinated as illuminated symbols appear on the skin of the body, ebbing and flowing in currents. It’s only seconds but feels so much longer than that – like when you film something and then later watch the video, where things progress faster, thinking _it was longer than that_ – and then the light transforms into a glowing bar, moving in geometric patterns. Pulses of light travel along the skin in search of each other, but never meeting. Desmond is reminded of that one snake game he had on his old phone, years back, where you chase the tail but can’t touch anything. Slowly, or perhaps faster than that, it fades away.

Desmond thought his body would have burned to a crisp, but it looks intact. The palm has no blackened skin to indicate which hand was used. The only reason his body doesn’t look like it’s just taking a nap, is the fact that it’s not breathing.

“Do you think I could just… Hop back in?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know… Wouldn’t I be braindead or something?” But that’s not what Clay’s really asking, and Desmond doesn’t know his own answer. Clay rests his hand on Desmond’s shoulder.

“Do you think Juno’s around?” Could _she_ take control of his body? Would she want to?

Distant noise and shouting alerts them; suddenly tense, they get up to watch as a group of strangers enter the chamber.

*

Alan Rikkin caresses Desmond’s body – stripped of everything – and Desmond shudders. Clay grabs his hand, and Desmond squeezes it back in thanks, refusing to tear his gaze away from the Templar.

“Extraordinary,” Rikkin whispers as he takes a step back from the body.

“Quite.”

The woman remains nameless – to them anyway – but she makes for an imposing figure, next to Rikkin, their heights towering over anyone else's in the room. They are the only ones wearing suits, dark and sleek, their little worker bees stuffed into white jumpsuits. No question about their authority.

“Do you want to snoop around a little?” Clay asks, whispering; not because he can be heard, but because Desmond is so very still. Too still.

Desmond clenches his jaw but doesn’t resist when Clay starts pulling him away from the room. They walk out in silence, Abstergo’s halls and corridors as ominous as ever.

*

They’ve been going through every bit of data they can access. It’s been hours, and they still haven’t come up with a plan.

Desmond sighs. “Let them have it. If they want it so bad, let them have it. I don’t want it.”

Clay doesn’t turn away from the screen, keeps going through the files. No password or security measures could keep him away.

“Do you want to destroy it?” He finally asks, because he understands, knows better than anyone else in Desmond’s life. If he has a life. Doesn’t he?

“I think I want to wait. If we can learn what the Templars are gaining from this, then maybe we can… Clay?”

Desmond turns to look at the screen, to see what’s got Clay so arrested.

Lucy’s picture stares back at them, and Desmond feels a lump in his throat. Clay’s stance is no longer relaxed.

“You wanted to know more about Lucy.”

*

Funny thing about data. It’s there where it needs to be, if you know what to look for.

Lucy wasn’t an Assassin. She wasn’t a Templar.

Lucy was working for the _Alliance_. Desmond had heard of it, but he never knew it truly existed. He stares at Haytham’s file with a pang of longing that doesn’t belong to him; in another life, maybe. There’s a portrait of another Grandmaster, this one a woman with red hair.

Io:nhiòte Kenway, Cudgel Gist, Grandpré…

Innokenti Orelov. Trained in Shao Jun’s style. Perhaps it’s why Daniel Cross learned to be so deadly.

Desmond reads through Lucy’s e-mails, the information the Templars stole, learned about. If only Lucy had told him about what the Alliance knew about Juno, before the Apple took over, she wouldn’t… But the Templars knew about Juno. They’re still alive. The few Alliance members who could’ve helped, hunted down by Cross.

His head hurts.

Clay looks close to crying, but there’s a smile there, that promises nothing sad. Lucy _did_ mean to save Clay, eventually.

Desmond smiles back.

*

Rebecca’s eyes are red from hours of misuse, her nose stuffy. She sinks into the sofa, sitting in the living area of their hotel suite. William has commandeered the master bedroom, intending to call his wife. That was hours ago.

Shaun had barricaded himself into the bathroom with a wine bottle in hand. He’s in the tub, crying. Rebecca’s torn between the absurdity of the situation and the crushing weight of Desmond’s absence. She clutches at her glass of water with shaky fingers and downs it, pretends she has painkillers to go with it, to stop her killer headache.

The glass slips from her hand, when the computer screen in front of her alerts her to a new message.

Hi Rebecca. Miss me?

**Author's Note:**

> Not everyone got a happy ending, and the ones that did had to go through a lot of shit, first… Life’s like that, I guess. But I also feel like happy, well-adjusted people wouldn’t become Assassins (or Templars) in the first place, so having to endure lots of trials and tribulations is kinda par for the course.
> 
> This part in the series is wildly different from the rest, but I wanted to experiment a little.
> 
> After 9 days of nonstop writing, I am… Going to write some more. Just a teensy bit. And then I’m done with this verse, I think.


End file.
